Letting Go
by Ritsukitty
Summary: Roger died 5 months ago and Mark was having the hardest of times getting over the death of his best friend. as he remembers the good old days he wonders when he would ever let the past go. One shot


Mark stood on the roof of his apartment building. He sighed and looked over the city he once knew. He doesn't go out much any more. Why should he? He has no reason to. He saw Café' Life and remembered the good old days. He remembered the night of La Vie Boheme and he just had to smile. Oh what a hang over he had the next day. He remembered watching Roger dance with Collins on the table. Collins looked so serious and roger looked like he was having so much fun. Mark shook his head. He thought about Roger and Mimi after that day. They had hooked up and they were so happy after that. Mark finally snapped out of the old memories and looked around. He felt some water hit his hand. Only then did he realize he was crying. He wiped the tears from his eyes and turned away from the city. He sighed and went down back into the loft. He stopped outside the door and looked at the floor. He thought for a while. Why did he say here? Roger had died 5 months ago and Mimi went back into with drawls and left. Maureen and Joanne had broken up and went their separate ways and Collins died of HIV and a broken hear (from his best friend and from the loss of Angel). Mark opened the door slowly and looked inside. The sad memories of the day roger died came flooding back to him in a flash.

Roger had been lying on the couch with his eyes closed and mark had just gotten back from Café Life with some stolen coffee bags. Mark walked into the loft and roger turned his head to face him. Even the smallest of movement had looked like he was nearly ready to pass out from exhaustion.

"Marky?" he gasped at a whispered.

"I'm here." Mark said and walked over to roger. Mark sat on the floor next to roger and softly enclosed Roger's hand in his.

"Remember…" roger gasped.

"Shhh…" mark shushed. "Don't talk. Just rest. But roger resisted and kept trying. Roger had always been stubborn.

"That day…. When… it was new years…. When…. We…." Roger gave a sharp gasp of air in pain. Mark quickly jumped up on his knees. Mark was trying to make roger be quiet and rest but roger continued. "Had popped…. The campaign…. Bottle and… it …."

"Broke the glass…" mark finished for him.

Roger nodded. "And the…. Clerk… got…. mad…. And we ran…"

Mark nodded. "Yes I remember." He said recalling back on that one day.

"Tell…. me about… that… day again…." Roger gasped.

Mark smiled. That day was always Roger's favorite memory. He would always ask to hear that while he was… he was… dying…

Mark rolled his eyes. "Again? Roger I tell you about that everyday." Even if he did he could help but smile and want to tell it to him. Mark sighed. "Ok alright."

Roger smiled and turned to face him.

"Well we were all standing around the TV Store watching the ball drop for the new years. Angel had bought a bottle of campaign. We started to count down, as the ball got closer to the bottom. When we all screamed one Collins popped the top off the bottle of campaign and it hit the TV store's window. The window shattered and the clerk ran out and started to yell at us we all ran and got out of there. When we stopped you fell over laughing really hard and Mimi took a drink of campaign and get really drunk. We all ended up in the lot drunk and passed out. The next morning we woke up and we all had the biggest of hangovers." Mark laughed softly and roger gave a weak smile. Roger let out a large sigh and closed his eyes. Rogers's hand felt numb in mark's hand. Mark grasped his hand. "Roger?" roger didn't answer. Mark looked over at him. He was lying there with a smile on his face but he wasn't breathing. Mark shook roger softly. "Roger? Roger!" roger didn't wake up. Mark kept shaking roger and calling his name. Even after that roger didn't wake up. Mark's vision got blurry and he flung himself across him. Mark cried for the longest time. All the while calling out Roger's name. Mark eventually cried himself to sleep. When he woke up he sat up and looked don at Roger's lifeless body lying in his arms. Mark rubbed his eyes and stood up and lied roger down gently. Mark walked over to the phone and called Mimi.

"Hello?" Mimi's voice sounded.

"Mimi?" marks voice cracked.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Roger's…" mark tried but he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. Mimi gasped and hung up and rushed to the loft. Mark called Maureen, Joanne, and Collins and they all came over. Mark sat on the couch with Roger's head in his lap. Mark brushed some of Roger's thinning hair out of his pale face. Mark then stood up suddenly.

"Mark?" Collins asked questionably.

Mark shook his head. "Roger…" he mumbled. "Do you want to play your guitar? I have it in my room." He asked and walked to his room and came out with Roger's guitar. Mark walked over to roger and set down his guitar by him and started shaking him. "Roger? Wake up. I brought your guitar. Roger?" Maureen walked over to mark and touched his arm.

"Mark?" she asked. "Mark hunny, roger is dead, you don't have to take care of him anymore, you can let go now." Mark shook his head and kept shaking him.

"No he can't be. He is just sleeping. Roger!" mark suddenly broke from Maureen's grasp and ran from the room into his. He slammed the door behind him and locked it. Mark never could get his mind around this. "He isn't dead. He CAN'T be dead!" he said. Mark cried some more. Mark had known roger all his life. He spent almost every waking moment with him. They were best friends. He couldn't leave him now. Mark needed him. Mark cried himself to sleep once more.

After that day nothing was ever the same. Everyday was lonely and quiet. Mark never could seem to find a reason to leave the loft. Collins eventually died and Mimi had it hard without roger there to. She went into with drawls and left. Maureen and Joanne broke up and left and mark didn't ever seem to want to go out anymore. Why should he? After a while he finally would sometimes go out to the top of the roof. Mark started to try to teach himself to play the guitar. Mark started selling off or throwing away almost everything. But Roger's guitar was always there. Mark refused to part with it.

Mark sighed. Perhaps it is time to find a new place to live. And to make new memories. Mark walked in grabbed some clothes and Roger's guitar and left the loft. Mark never returned to the loft after that. He never wanted to. Mark sighed and walked down to the graveyard where they had buried roger. Mark stood at the foot of Roger's grave and looked down at him.

"Roger." Mark whispers. "I miss you. But I think it is time to leave. I am going to leave and move someplace else. But before I go I wanted to play something for you. I have been practicing the guitar for so long. Please listen." Mark softly started playing. He played a soft sweet song he wrote. He played for the longest time. When he stopped he brushed some tears from his eyes. Mark then felt a soft warm breeze blow against him. Mark smiled. "Good bye roge." He said softly and turned and left. Finally he could let go…


End file.
